Not all that, but something….

I’m not a dumb kinda chick, ‘ya know? I got my own intelligence
I’m playin’ with a full deck, playin’ with fire
I’m the entire twelve course degustation
and I’m the e. coli poisoning your tracts afterward
I’m salt and pepper, I’m the whole damn spice rack
Sun and moon, mars and venus
night and day
sweet and sour
I encompass all variables and create my own

I got a laugh that’ll convince you the rest of humanity has all but silenced and disappeared
It’ll infect you with joy you didn’t know you could find
penetrate your very mind and steep amongst your fluid thoughts
until behind your every stained-glass sadness you can hear my giggle and
see my kaleidoscope smile

Might not know a tonne of random facts, couldn’t reel off a political speil
or tell you much about any particular war
really, I’m awful with geography
and I’ve never travelled knowingly

I’ve got a few hundred buckets of wit and humour tied to a rope I drag around with me
it’s heavy, gets tangled on branches and stuck in traffic
I threaded bells in between to add a little spring to my step
a little music to my otherwise unscored life

I know a little about space and a little about ancient Egypt
Wrote my own theories on life, death and love
Bring tears to my fathers eyes with a couple paragraphs of
unusually structured sentences and
more honesty than can spill from my mouth in one breath

Got fascination and curiosity out the wazoo

Just love learning like there’s no tomorrow
I ain’t got no clue about how to play an instrument or speak any European language
but I’ve always wanted to learn and I’m pretty good with intonation

I can cut hair and manipulate it into perfectly vintage tendrils
got soft hands with even softer touch
that buckle and break under too much pressure

I got a joke or two in my back pocket and a little bit of charm
little bit of charisma, stars in my eyes to keep you guessing
“is she of this planet?
;this solar system, this universe”
Because I can seem a thousand lightyears away but still feel locked and loaded
.44 Magnum cocked and my fingers are just burning
to squeeze off a shot of realism into your chest

Intelligent motion, body language as much as spoken language
I know how to feel and I can articulate it
I can frolic in the deserts of my despair
and cavort freely in the deep mossy undergrowth where I keep my primeval
I can share my sentiment with careful consideration
Mine is a heart sensitive and bruised, it’s already parading stitches and
scars —if it is framed in my favourite black shadow box for you,
please don’t
break the glass